Flaca was now living with her fiancé, Luis, a mechanic who fixed up classic cars in his spare time. Flaca’s parents liked to pretend that the two weren’t actually living together out of wedlock, a fiction Flaca maintained by not allowing Luis to keep anything at the apartment, other than the single dresser drawer he was allotted in their bedroom. Luis was storing all of his belongings at his parents’ house until after their wedding.
“I know,” Lainey said. She looked up from her polishing job. “Do you have anything to eat? I’m starving.”
“I thought you said you felt sick,” Flaca said.
“I do. I’m sick and hungry at the same time, all the time. Isn’t that weird?” Lainey said.
“Angelina was the same way when she was pregnant,” Flaca said. “She’d pig out, throw it all up, and then pig out some more.”
Angelina was Flaca’s oldest sister, and had gained seventy-five pounds when she was pregnant, most of which she never lost after the baby arrived. Lainey shuddered at the thought of that happening to her.
“There’s a box of cereal in the cupboard,” Flaca said. She got up and, hobbling on her heels so as not to smudge her newly polished toes, went into the kitchen to retrieve the box. She came back in the living room and handed it to Lainey, who ripped it open and dumped a small pile of Cap’n Crunch out on the coffee table.
“You’ve definitely decided to have an abortion?” Flaca asked. There was no condemnation in the question. Flaca was Catholic by birth but pragmatic by nature.
“Yes.” Lainey paused. “Something weird happened when I went to the clinic.”
“What?”
“I fainted.”
“Again?” Lainey had accompanied Flaca to the tattoo studio when she was having Luis’s name inked on the back of her neck. The tattoo artist had barely begun, just touching the needle to Flaca’s skin, when Lainey slid off her chair in a dead faint.
Lainey nodded. “They were drawing blood,” she said, shuddering at the memory.
“Damn, girl, what is it with you and needles?”
“I don’t know. I can’t help it,” Lainey said defensively. She shoved a handful of cereal into her mouth.
“You okay?”
Lainey shrugged. “Fine. I mean, still pregnant, but otherwise fine.”
“Do you think it was a sign? You passing out like that?”
“A sign of what?”
“That you should have the baby,” Flaca said. She lifted her heavy eyebrows in a meaningful way.
Lainey snorted. “A sign from God? Please. You know, you should let me tweeze your eyebrows. I keep telling you, it would really make your eyes pop.”
“You know how you feel about needles? That’s how I feel about having my hair ripped out by the roots. And don’t change the subject,” Flaca said. “I really think this could be a sign.”
“I don’t believe in signs.”
“I do. The first time Luis and I went out, there was a huge full moon in the sky, even though it was still light out. I knew then that we were meant to be together.”
“You’re getting married because of a moon?” Lainey teased. She adored Luis and would have killed Flaca if she hadn’t decided to marry him. “You know that’s crazy, right?”
“No it’s not. And it’s not the only reason I’m marrying him. I was just paying attention to the signs that God was trying to tell me something,” Flaca said.
“If God wanted me to keep this baby, he’d send me a winning lottery ticket. Now, that would be a sign. And even then, I still wouldn’t want it. The baby, I mean. I’d take the money.”
“I don’t think God works that way.”
“Too bad. I could use the money for my L.A. fund. In fact, it’s too bad you can’t sell babies.”
“Well …,” Flaca said, and bit her lip thoughtfully.
“I was just kidding.”
“I know. But do you remember Crystal Owens? She was a year ahead of us at school.”
“Yeah, sure. She used to go out with Jason Tucker. Remember when he got loaded at that party and tried to stick his hand up my shirt? Crystal got in my face about it, warning me to stay away from her man. As if I’d have any interest in that freak,” Lainey said, with an eye roll. “He was a total troll. They’re not still together, are they?”
“No, they broke up ages ago. But don’t you remember, she got knocked up senior year?”
“That’s right. I’d totally forgotten about that.”
“She gave her baby up for adoption.”
“She did? How did I not know that?” Lainey finished painting Flaca’s nails and capped the bottle of polish with a flourish.
“I think she kept it pretty quiet. Anyway, from what I heard, the family who adopted the baby paid her for it. They even rented her an apartment and paid her bills.”
Lainey stared at her friend. “Seriously? They gave her money?”
Flaca nodded. “I heard she had enough afterward to get a new car,” Flaca said. She wiggled her toes for Lainey to see. “What do you think of this color? Damn, girl, you give the best pedicures.”
Lainey shrugged off the praise. She’d be thrilled to never see the inside of another nail salon. Currently, she was working at one in the mall that was owned and run by a Korean family. Lainey was the only native English speaker employed in the place, and she was pretty sure the other nail technicians talked about her while she was sitting right there. They were always giving her sly, sidewise looks and giggling behind their hands. “Crystal seriously bought a new car?”
“Yeah. It was just one of those little shitty Kias, but still.” Flaca shrugged. “Better than nothing, right?”
Lainey wondered what a new Kia cost. It had to be at least ten grand, right? That would definitely pay for a bus ticket to Los Angeles, and cover a few months of living expenses if she was careful. Would that be enough time for her to get discovered?
“How much money do you think I could get?”
“I don’t know. Probably a lot. There are a lot of rich people out there who want to adopt. I’ve seen, like, whole episodes on Oprah about it. The women have careers or whatever, and by the time they get around to having babies, it’s too late,” Flaca explained.
“So they’re desperate,” Lainey mused. “Desperate enough to pay a lot of money.”
“Definitely,” Flaca agreed. “And you know, the kid would be totally set up for life. It would probably have a nanny and a pony.”
Lainey shrugged this off. She was far more interested in the idea that this pregnancy—which she had, right up until this very moment, seen only as a problem that needed to be dealt with—might actually be an easy way for her to make some money. True, it would mean she’d have to be pregnant for months and months, and would get really fat in the meantime. But that would be temporary. She could lose the weight. Lots of movie stars had babies, and were skinny again a few weeks later.
“How would I find one of these rich, desperate women?” Lainey asked.
“Seriously?” Flaca asked.
“What? It was your idea!”
“But it’s a really big deal. A huge, life-changing deal. A few minutes ago, you were sure you were going to have an abortion.”
“A few minutes ago, I didn’t know having this baby would make me rich,” Lainey retorted.
“But don’t you think it’d be hard to go through a whole pregnancy, feeling the baby kick, and then at the end, hand it over to a couple of complete strangers?” Flaca asked. She shook her head. “I don’t know if I could do that.”
But Lainey was caught up in fantasies of bloated bank balances and the glamorous new life it would buy her in Los Angeles—meeting movie stars, attending glittering parties, finding a rich guy to fall in love with her. Her entire life would change for the better.
“I don’t think it’d be hard at all,” she said.
Lainey almost lost her nerve when Rosemary answered the phone.
“This is Rosemary,” a familiar, pleasant voice said.
“Yeah, um, you probably don’t remember me, but my name is Lainey. I was at the clinic last week and I passed out when they were taking blood, and you gave me your card.”
“Of course I remember you,” Rosemary said warmly. “How are you, Lainey?”
“I’m okay. I was thinking about not having an abortion after all. But I don’t want to keep the baby, either,” Lainey added quickly, lest Rosemary get it into her head to knit the baby some booties, or whatever it was that old ladies did with their free time.
“You’re considering adoption?” Rosemary asked.
Lainey searched the words and tone for even the merest trace of being judged. But then, deciding there was none, she said, “Yeah, I guess so. But the thing is, I don’t know how to do that.”
“You have several options. I would recommend that you use some sort of intermediary. A lawyer, an adoption agency, even a good not-for-profit group,” Rosemary said.
Lainey did not like the sound of not-for-profit.
“I think I want to go through an attorney,” Lainey said, figuring that this was probably how rich people adopted babies. Rich people always had lawyers.
“There are several good adoption attorneys in town, but there’s one in particular that I’ve gotten good feedback on.”
“That would be great,” Lainey said, picking up a pencil to write down the lawyer’s name on an unpaid cable bill. Mike Jankowski, 555–0400.
———
“What’s this?” Trav asked when he got home from the gym that night. Lainey was sitting at the coffee table, eating pizza right out of the delivery box, which she’d paid for with a twenty she’d found in Trav’s sock drawer. It was one of his favorite places to stash money, although why he continued to put it there, when Lainey just helped herself to it, she didn’t know. Maybe he forgot about it. Either way, she was glad—she’d been craving pepperoni all day.
Lainey glanced up and saw that Trav—still sweating and smelling like a gym rat—was holding the cable bill.
“It says Mike Jankowski,” he said.
Lainey let out an excited gasp. “You learned to read! Good for you,” she cheered sarcastically.
“Who is he?” Trav asked, ignoring her sarcasm.
“Why? Are you jealous?”
Trav snorted, and dropped his gym bag on the ground. “As if. In fact,” he hesitated, “I’ve been thinking. After you get the … well, you know.”
“You can’t say the word abortion?”
“Fine. After you get the abortion, I think you should move out,” Trav said.
Lainey stared up at him, the pizza slice frozen en route to her mouth. “Are you kidding me?” she asked.
“Come on, Lainey,” Trav said, sitting in the La-Z-Boy recliner. It had always grossed Lainey out that he’d lounge there after working out before he’d showered. The gray microfiber upholstery was starting to smell. “This—the two of us—it isn’t working out. We both know that, right?”
Lainey didn’t know what was more irritating: the fact that Trav had beaten her to the breakup, or that he was now talking to her in a soothing, sympathetic voice, as though she might be upset. As though he had the ability to break her heart.
“Let me get this straight: I’m pregnant with your baby, and you’re kicking me out of our apartment,” she said.
“My apartment,” Trav said. “I pay the rent. And you don’t have to go right away. Stay until you have the abortion.”
The irritation quickly became a hot, buzzing anger that filled Lainey’s lungs and choked in her throat. She hadn’t planned on using her decision to keep the pregnancy as a weapon to bludgeon Trav with. If anything, she was hoping he wouldn’t interfere or do anything to screw up the adoption. But that resolve was swept away in her rage.
“I changed my mind,” Lainey said. She smiled maliciously at Trav’s look of dumb incomprehension. “I’m not going to have an abortion after all.”
The color drained from Trav’s face. “What?” he asked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m going to have the baby. I canceled my appointment at the clinic,” Lainey said.
She stretched out her legs and took a bite of the pizza. She took her time chewing and swallowing.
Trav sat heavily on the end of the couch, looking like he might cry.
“Why?”
“I changed my mind.”
“But you don’t want a baby,” Trav said. His voice was now a whine, which Lainey found both irritating and satisfying.
“Relax. I’m not keeping it,” she said.
“What?” Trav’s head snapped up, and he turned to stare at Lainey with something that looked very much like hatred. “So you’re just fucking with me? You’re lying to me?”
“No, I’m not lying. And drop the ’roid rage, I’m not in the mood. I’m going to give the baby up for adoption. That guy’s name I wrote down on the cable bill? He’s a lawyer,” Lainey said. “An adoption lawyer. I’m going to see him tomorrow.”
“But you said you wanted to have an abortion. I gave you the money for it,” Trav said.
Typical, Lainey thought. All he cared about was his eight hundred bucks. He’d turned into such a cheapskate.
“I’m going to use that money to hire the lawyer, genius,” Lainey lied. She’d checked that out when she called Mike Jankowski’s office to schedule the appointment—she wouldn’t have to pay a dime. But she was fairly sure that Trav wouldn’t know that, so she’d decided to add his eight hundred to her Los Angeles savings. She figured she deserved it, just for having to put up with his steroid-induced mood swings.
“Jesus, Lainey. You can’t make these decisions on your own,” Trav said.
“Why not? It’s my body. It has nothing to do with you. I’m going to have the baby and put it up for adoption. It’s not like I’m asking you to raise it or anything.”
“Why?”
“Because I think you’d be a shitty parent.”
“No, I mean why are you doing this. Having the baby. What do you get out of it?”
Lainey shrugged and took another bite of her pizza. “Nothing. I just think it’s a good thing. The baby gets a shot at a decent life, and some sad couple out there who can’t have a kid gets to have one.”
Trav let out an incredulous bark of laughter.
“What?” Lainey demanded.
“You’ve never done anything for anyone else in your life.”
“That’s not true! I gave Flaca a pedicure today.”
“Yeah, you’ll do shit for Flaca,” Trav admitted. “But not for anyone else.”
“Look, if I want to have this baby, I will. And there’s nothing you can do about it,” Lainey snarled. She kicked at Trav with one bare foot, but he jumped out of the way before she could make contact.
“Yeah, well, there is,” Trav said. “You can get out of my apartment.”
Lainey stared at him. “What?”
“Yeah. I want you out. Now.”
“Now?” Lainey’s voice was shrill. “Where am I supposed to go at this time of night?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Trav said. “I just don’t want you here.”
“Then you should leave!”
“This is my apartment. I pay the rent. You never pay a fucking dime for anything. In fact, where’d you get the money to pay for this pizza?” he asked.
“I have a job,” Lainey retorted.
“You stole it from my sock drawer, didn’t you!”
Lainey was so surprised he’d caught on, that she didn’t rebuff his accusation quickly enough. “No,” she said finally. “Fuck off.”
Trav snatched up the pizza box. “Then this is my pizza,” he said.
“I’m pregnant with your baby!” Lainey stood, her hands balled at her sides.
“You just told me it has nothing to do with me. It’s your body, remember? So get your shit, and get your body out of here,” Trav said.
“Fine. Whatever,” Lainey said. As she passed by him, she reach
ed out and knocked the pizza box out of his hands. Deep-dish pepperoni spattered onto the graying vinyl floor and, even better, down the front of Trav’s black sleeveless moisture-wicking gym shirt.
Lainey knocked on the door of her mother’s house. She was clutching a kitchen garbage bag containing all her possessions, which bumped uncomfortably against her shins. To make herself feel better, Lainey tried to picture herself as a television star with a complete set of Louis Vuitton luggage. The fantasy didn’t have the calming effect it normally did.
The porch light wasn’t on, although that didn’t necessarily mean that no one was home. It could have blown out weeks, even months ago. Lainey’s mother, Candace, rarely got around to such mundane tasks as changing lightbulbs. Lainey knocked again. This time, she could hear an unintelligible squawk of conversation, followed by footsteps approaching and the metallic jingle of a chain lock being unfastened. The door swung open, and a backlit Candace peered out at her daughter.
Candace was a large, blowsy woman. She had meaty shoulders and arms, and a bloated face that was bare of makeup. Her hair was her one vanity. Although it was too long and, Lainey thought, too blonde, Candace put a lot of effort into styling it—curled bangs, feathered-back sides, lots of volume on top.
“Hi, Mom,” Lainey said. “Can I come in?”
“Baby!” Candace exclaimed. She swung open the door and folded Lainey into her arms. Candace smelled as she always did: a potent combination of Aqua Net and gin. Lainey allowed herself to be hugged for a few beats, but then stiffened and stepped away.
“What are you doing here, sugar?” Candace asked. The words were slightly slurred, but still comprehensible, which Lainey took as a good sign.
“Trav kicked me out,” Lainey said. She dropped her garbage bag full of clothes on the ground. “Do you mind if I stay for a few nights? Just until I find a new place.”
Candace peered at her daughter. “He kicked you out?”
Lainey nodded. “He’s an asshole,” she said by way of explanation.
When You Least Expect It Page 6